


The Flood

by Ana_Khouri



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Post 'Before the Flood', because i had to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7491819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ana_Khouri/pseuds/Ana_Khouri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Clara," he cautioned and she smiled in spite of herself at how he could convey his concern, fear and anxieties in the tone of her name, "Stop," he commanded gently.</p>
<p>Clara shook her head before biting her lip, she could see the conflict in his eyes, how his need to protect her was overriding even his own desire.  </p>
<p>"I don't want to be Bennett," she admitted, her eyes wide and just a little glassy with tears, "I don't want to die with this being something we never allowed ourselves."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flood

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** Before the Flood (S09E04) - I also refer to the season 7 mini ep ‘Clara and the Tardis’ which, if you haven’t seen, is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8I9z6Y4mBY  
>  **A/N:** Thank you (as always) to my wife/beta/fellow obsessed fangirl, starbuck1980. Fangirling with you is so much fun.

"You know what Bennett said?" Clara asked, breaking the silence that had crept around them and shifting toward The Doctor with an uncharacteristic shyness.

He had just saved her from an underground water base by faking his own death, putting himself in stasis and creating a mind-bending paradox. She’s pretty sure he broke at least a few of his rules to do so and she can’t help but feel the guilt of it mixed with the other feelings she can no longer ignore. Her earlier command to him runs on repeat in her head - ‘If you love me in any way, you'll come back,’ - and it feeds the guilt but also makes her heart swell, her stomach churn and her fingers itch. 

"You'll have to be more specific Clara," he responded, glancing up at her briefly before averting his eyes, his mind whirring as he let his hands wander the console aimlessly. He could tell what she meant by the way she could not quite raise her eyes but it was something he was desperately trying not to address. He knew what he had done, he knew what it meant to him. 

Clara moved beside him to face him full on, the console to her back as she forced herself to meet his eyes even as they became elusive. 

"About things happening and it being too late," she clarified as she fought to gain his attention. He had shifted slightly away from her and was still working the controls on the console. 

"Doctor, look at me," she insisted and brought a hand up to his chin, forcing him to pause and look at her. She saw it then, that deer-in-the-headlights fear. 

She swallowed but forced herself to continue, remembering what she felt when she thought he had died. 

"I thought I saw your ghost," she pointed out, releasing his face. 

He nodded in response as if it was the height of banality, his eyes shifting back to the Tardis console as his hands itched for anything to distract himself from the way Clara was making him _feel_. 

"Listen to me," she demanded, her tone louder and firm as his eyes snapped to hers. "This isn't easy for me but I can't bare the thought of something happening and you..." She broke off, unable to say the words entrenched in her heart. 

He nodded, "I know Clara," he replied with what he hopped was a tone that would ring true while not betraying the extent his own feelings, his eyes again shifting to the Tardis console. 

"No you don't," Clara insisted, her tone rising in frustration as she forced herself between the Doctor and the console. 

The Doctor stepped back with the intention of continuing to move away but Clara grabbed his hands, anchoring him in place in front of her. 

"Just stay still and look at me," she pleaded. 

The Doctor shook his head.

"You think I don't know," he began, his voice quivering slightly, "but why do you think I did it, I created a time loop because I needed to save you - I forced myself to confront the Fisher King because I thought _you_ were going to die and then I wouldn't be able to," he continued, his voice becoming louder and choked with emotion as Clara watched his eyes slide from her face, his expression giving away even more than his words. 

She released his hand and moved to touch his face, raising his chin to meet her eyes before stepping forward, her heartbeat thundering in her ears - desire and disbelief. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips, hoping she could convey what her words had failed to do, and felt his lips respond ever so subtly before she pulled back. 

"Oh Clara," he half begged, half moaned when her lips departed, his eyes focused on her with a laser intensity that made her breath quicken. She felt her body flush and realised how much she had been holding back, how much they had both been holding back. 

His scent was in her nose, intoxicating her, and she realised it was so much more than admitting how much she loved him. She needed to feel him. She reached up both hands and pulled his face to hers, bringing their lips together again. 

The Doctor’s head spun, Clara’s tongue brushing against his lips as her hand flexed against his neck, her body pressed against his. He parted his lips and the hesitant touch became a taste, a fevered exploration as The Doctor tangled his hands in her hair and they revelled in the heat and _life_ of the other. 

She melded her body closer before realising what she really wanted was skin and released her hands from his neck to snake in between their bodies, peeling away the jacket and the hoodie as he obligingly let them fall before releasing her lips and separating them. 

"Clara," he cautioned and she smiled in spite of herself at how he could convey his concern, fear and anxieties in the tone of her name, "Stop," he commanded gently.

Clara shook her head before biting her lip, she could see the conflict in his eyes, how his need to protect her was overriding even his own desire. 

"I don't want to be Bennett," she admitted, her eyes wide and just a little glassy with tears, "I don't want to die with this being something we never allowed ourselves."

She eased her fingers under his T-shirt and slowly slid her leg between his, pressing against the hardness forming there ever so gently, raising an eyebrow to make her point before retreating. 

"I trust you," she added, looking up at The Doctor with the simple truths of her love and desire. 

The sight of her unadulterated love ran through his body like a wave of heat more intense than the feeling of her thigh between his legs. He felt her fingers caressing his chest beneath the fabric as she looked up at him with those wide and hopeful eyes, pupils dilated with the arousal coursing through her. And in that moment he capitulated to their mutual desire and and brought his hand to her chin, guiding her lips back to his. The kiss was less rushed, an acceptance, as they both allowed themselves to feel the moment stretch between them. Clara's hand ran along his back as she pulled him closer, The Doctor breaking the kiss again to taste her jaw, trailing kisses to her neck as he pulled aside the mustard coloured fabric. 

Clara's breath caught at the feeling of his lips on her neck and she cursed the outfit choice that left her body so unavailable to him. 

The Doctor glanced briefly at the console behind her to check they would not activate anything dangerous before lifting her on to it, his hands running along her outer thighs as their lips met again. 

Clara could feel the warmth of his hands caressing her thighs through her tights, becoming insistent even as they were frustrated by the fabric beneath them. 

She broke the kiss and leaned in to his ear, “You can take them off,” she suggested, her voice pitched lower than she expected it. 

He pulled his head back, looking at her with a mixture of childish excitement and a very adult want. 

“Can I?” he asked, needing to confirm, needing her to be okay. 

She nodded slowly, biting her lip at his sudden absence as he knelt before her. 

His fingers tugged gently at the laces of her right shoe, sliding it off slowly as he looked up to meet eyes dancing with impatience. 

Clara watched The Doctor remove one shoe and then the other with a methodical care that was both heartwarming and frustrating. He then proceeded to run his fingers across her feet, massaging the soles, playing with her toes until Clara giggled and pulled her foot away. 

“That tickles,” she insisted before crooking her finger at him. 

He obeyed, standing again and placing a hand on each knee before sliding them along her outer thighs and under her dress. He found the waistband of her tights and slid his fingers beneath them and Clara took in a sharp breath at the contact. He met her eyes in response but she only nodded as he eased them down, the backs of his fingers against the skin of her waist and then the light fabric of her panties as she felt the increasing warmth between her thighs. She lifted herself up from the console so he could continue his progression, this distance between their bodies only intensifying her need to touch and taste him. 

He kneeled again as he slid the tights over her knees, kissing each one of them before pulling the tights the rest of the way off and discarding them on the floor. He ran his hands along her calves, kissing a trail along the inside edge of them, wanting to savour this holy thing, the contact that felt almost blasphemous. Her legs parted, allowing him to continue as he kissed the inside of her knees to her lower thigh, the overwhelming scent of her arousal teasing him as he grazed his teeth along her skin, nipping lightly at her inner thigh. He looked up at her then to check she was still okay and saw her grasping the edge of the console white-knuckled, her head back and throat exposed as much as the turtleneck would allow. He quickly stood and took her head in his hands as she met his eyes, curiosity seeping through the desire as she saw the concern on his face. The concern faded and Clara’s eyes dropped to his lips as they met her own. Her hands returned to his shirt as she pulled him closer so he was standing between her thighs. She pulled his shirt up, waiting to feel as much skin as possible against her palms but couldn’t reach high enough to get it over his head. He obliged, leaving it on the floor beside them as she turned to her own clothing, hiking her dress behind her before pulling it and the shirt over her head. Her heart sped up with the reality of this as the cool air hit her warm skin. She looked up at The Doctor and found him staring, tracing her with his eyes with such precision and devotion that her breath caught. She reached out for him, breaking the spell, and he met her eyes. 

“Oh Clara,” he offered as if in supplication, “how do you do this to me?” he asked as he moved closer. 

“The feeling is mutual,” she breathed as she lifted her hand to his face, meeting his eyes as her fingers traced his cheek. 

He leaned towards her neck, needing to taste the skin there as she arched away to expose it to him, her arms under his as she ran her palms across his shoulder blades, down his back and along his sides. Her fingers touched the band of his trousers as they ran along the hem to meet in the centre. Despite the lack of space between their bodies she managed to undo the button and the zip, a hand sliding inside and brushing against the hardness beneath his shorts. She felt him groan against her neck and moved to the hem of his shorts. 

The Doctor backed up suddenly, catching the hand that had been about to expose him further as he looked at her with wide eyes. 

“We can’t do this,” he uttered as his narrowed eyes darted around them curiously. 

Clara raised her eyebrows in disbelief, grabbing his hand and bringing it to the wet fabric between her thighs as her other hand pressed against the hardness between his. 

“I beg to differ,” she replied pointedly, arching an eyebrow as his eyes returned to hers. 

“No,” he replied, his eyes softening at her confusion, “I mean the angle and the height are all wrong,” he clarified, gesturing to the console, “and the levers….” he added before taking her hand and turning. 

Clara jumped down and followed as The Doctor pulled her from the console room, turning immediately to the right to find themselves in Clara’s bedroom. 

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling and muttered something before turning to her with a smile. 

Clara looked around curiously, “My bedroom?” she commented incredulously, her eyebrows raised. 

“She found yours easier,” The Doctor answered with a shrug as he moved closer. 

Clara smiled knowingly as she looked up at the ceiling briefly, the Tardis had always known where her bedroom was but it was good to know she was no longer using that knowledge as a method of torment.

Her eyes dropped to The Doctor’s as he leaned over to kiss her neck once again but Clara brought one hand to his cheek, guiding his lips back to hers as the feel of them flooded her with a renewed warmth. 

She felt his hands trailing down her back and over her panties as he lifted her to him. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his hips, relishing in the contact of his skin against her thighs and chest as he carried her the few steps to her bed.

He lay her down on the bed with an agility that surprised her as he released her lips and kissed her collarbone, moving aside the strap of her bra. 

Clara released his neck and shifted to reach the latch of her bra, releasing it before pulling it off between them and discarding it on the floor. She turned her attention back to his trousers and eased them off his hips as she felt his hands on the band of her panties. He looked up at her, an implicit request for permission, and she nodded, a soft moan escaping as the wetness between her thighs hit the air. He had discarded his trousers as well and looked back at her, a fear and hesitancy in his eyes. 

“I haven’t… not since….” he tried to explain but Clara put a finger over his lips. 

“I don’t care,” she replied, smiling up at him as her heart burst with love for just how vulnerable he was like this, releasing himself to her and allowing the need she could see so clearly in his eyes. 

She met his lips again, rolling their bodies so she was straddling his hips before breaking the kiss to remove his shorts. She guided him into her and watched the blissful ache on his face as she rolled her hips, pushing him deeper within. 

The Doctor felt himself surrounded by this bubble of warmth as their physical joining created an empathic link, her love and want melding with his own as their bodies found their rhythm. 

Clara felt him inside her, filling her in a way that was more than physical as she struggled to pace herself against the overwhelming emotion that was being mainlined into her chest. 

It felt like a moment of frozen time, them together like this, emotion feeding physical need as the rhythm increased. Their bodies ached for the release that seemed only the briefest moment away as the moment stretched between them, spiralling towards infinity until she felt him climax within her, the force of emotions behind it cascading her over the edge as she fell beside him sweaty and spent. 

Her hand was on his chest and she felt his breathing regulate even as hers fought to do the same. She looked up at him, feeling the loss of their shared emotional state as he turned to her, but she could see it in his eyes - a shadow of the intensity they had shared. 

“I should’ve said,” he began, “but it doesn’t always happen,” he explained as his breathing eased and he shifted on to his side, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her close, needing the physical contact as the orgasm faded. 

Clara raised an eyebrow, her breath still uneven as she tried to process what had just happened, no words seeming to fit the magnitude of their shared experience. 

“Speechless eh?” The Doctor prodded as his face eased into a teasing smile, “That will be one for the record books - ‘The day Clara Oswald had no words,’” he announced to a fake audience before looking at her again with that smile that warmed her heart. 

She pulled a pillow from behind her and hit him squarely on the side of the head, his expression changing to shock as he turned to find other pillows but she climbed over him and wrested them from his grasp, hitting him with them before tossing them off the bed and out of his reach. Before he could move to get them she straddled him again, leaning forward and pinning his arms to the bed, raising her eye brows as he admitted defeat. She smiled then and released his arms, laying on top of him, her head on his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her and they spent the next few moments in silence before Clara raised herself and looked at him. 

“I felt…,” she began before swallowing, her eyebrows furrowed, “It almost hurts how much you love me,” she finally uttered, “Why did you never say?” she asked. 

He returned her gaze evenly, “How could I? I was too scared to lose you - why did you never say?”

Clara nodded as the point drove home acutely, she had never wanted to take the risk either - not until the thought of him dying made the rest of it not matter. 

She lay back down on top of him, feeling his two hearts beat and tracing abstract patterns on his chest. 

“Will it always be that intense?” Clara asked without looking up. 

The Doctor sighed, “I really don’t know. But we’ll find out,” he replied, moving one of his hands from her side to her hair as he stroked it, breathing her in.

He felt Clara smile broadly against his chest, “I look forward to it,” she replied.


End file.
